


Seven Days on Risa

by Evalie_Soto (Missalyssasecret)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Making Love, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, space boos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missalyssasecret/pseuds/Evalie_Soto
Summary: "I used to think about that time on Risa, for our tenth anniversary.””The tub?””The tub.  And the sunsets, and that huge bed with all the pillows.  Laying you down on those white sheets and waking up to you riding me. Watching you sleep.”Culmets at their best - playful, affectionate, passionate, naughty, and profoundly in love.
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 57
Kudos: 41





	1. Two days ago

**Author's Note:**

> Built out from a reference (in the summary) from Chapter 94 of When Sorrow Turns to Joy. 
> 
> Here I go with **another** multi-chapter fic with no set endpoint. I blame Culmets.

**_> > Recording message for Lieutenant Paul Stamets_ **

**_> > Audio only_ **

"Hi sweetheart. I'm so sorry, we just got orders for a medical mission to Betazed. Don't worry - I'm still taking leave, but I'll need to catch a shuttle from Mars instead of meeting you on Starbase 12. Please don't wait up for me - go ahead and get checked in, and I'll just be a few hours late. 

"I can't wait to see you. I miss you so much, but we've got a whole week together. I'm just sorry to miss out on those five extra hours. Unfortunately, outbreaks of Andorian measles don't seem to respect anniversaries.

"Try to maybe sleep a little before I get there? I _need_ you, sweetheart. So bad. Need to see you and feel you and taste you. Going to lick every inch of your skin...you're not allowed to wear clothes unless we're leaving our room, so I hope you didn't pack anything fancy. I know, you don't do fancy, but still. I need to have you, need to make you scream. Oh the things I'm going to _do_ to you, sweetheart, all of it, as long as you want and as much as you want, I-

"...all right, I better sign off. No, I'm not jerking off because I'm saving it for you, but I need a few minutes to calm down. Beaming down to Utopia Planitia in ten minutes, and I can't go to the transporter room with a hard on. Well, I could, but no one else is allowed to see that but you. 

"I'm bringing you something special, and don't worry, I remembered all of the toys. Seven months, I can handle a day and a half more, right? Sure. Fuck.

"All right. I love you, and I'll see you soon.

"Culber out."

**_> > Message sent_ **


	2. T-minus eleven hours

Hugh ends up far more than five hours late. 

The transport from Utopia Planitia departs on time, but an engine failure forces a diversion for repairs. His already fraying nerves are further shredded as he watches the chrono with increasing frustration with every minute of their delay, time ticking away to two, three, then six hours. 

_We could have had sex, taken a nap, and gone a second round by this point._

_I could be snuggling Paul._

Either of those would make him happy, honestly, and he plans to do plenty of the latter after satisfying their mutual craving for the former. Assuming he makes it to Risa without anything else going wrong.

Paul tries to help by sending photos of what Hugh has to look forward to after he’s checked in, both exciting and a torment as he sees the huge soaking tub, the vista from the window taking up one entire wall, and the enormous bed with more pillows on it than either of them could possibly use. As the hours drag on, they switch from the suite to Paul himself - pouting at the circumstances, an artful shot of his gorgeous pale legs and the curve of his ass with his hand cupped over himself, sucking his own fingers with eyes full of lustful promise.

Hugh sits very still after that last one, bag on his lap as he tries and fails to will down his erection. It would be so simple to find somewhere private and release a little tension, but he'd promised his next orgasm to Paul and wasting a week's worth of abstention on his own hand just won't do. He does, however, lock himself in the bathroom long enough to bring himself right to the edge and send Paul a photo of the obscene bulge in his pants, jacket and undershirt rucked up enough to show the leaking tip tucked between waistband and belly. 

He's particularly proud of not coming untouched when Paul's response is a shot of those same two fingers buried to the knuckle inside a very different part of his anatomy.

As they get underway again, Hugh is caught in polite conversation with a fellow medical officer seated beside him who he vaguely recognizes from some conference or other. It’s pleasant enough and provides a bit of distraction, although he’d much rather be daydreaming about Paul’s eyes and skin and scent and the giggles Hugh gets when he wrestles his partner down and tickles him. 

“Are you heading to an assignment?”

”Hmm? Oh, no.”

It’s a fair question, given that he’s still in full uniform. His colleague tips her head in a bemused frown at his reply, gazing at the deck between them. Hugh follows her perplexed look to the travel case sitting next to his duffel, emblazoned with the Medical logo.

 _Ahh_.

“This?” he taps with the side of his boot, “I’m on leave for the week, just bringing the right workout gear.”

Understanding wipes away curiosity, and she nods.

”Is exercise relaxing, though?”

Hugh chuckles.

”It’s exhausting, but worth it.”

Her comm chirps, and she excuses herself to take it somewhere quieter. Once she’s gone, Hugh props his foot up on the case and lets a filthy smile cross his lips. He wonders what the reaction would be to finding out what’s actually inside the innocuous container: three bottles of their favorite lube and his half of the toy collection, packed far more carefully than the minimal amount of folded clothing and his toothbrush tossed into his duffel. 

_Definitely planning to get a workout._


	3. Day One - 0300

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh finally makes it to Risa. Also, reunion sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains extremely consensual somnophilia and a brief mention of sex toys.

The suite is almost completely dark when he arrives, the flickering of holographic candles casting shadows in puddles around the space. He's expecting Paul to be waiting by the door, but he's greeted with silent stillness as he surveys everything. 

The carpet of the hallway has given way to polished wood floors, furniture all done in shades of ivory and gold. On the large table to his right, the blue stasis glow envelops a spread of finger foods on two trays: ripe berries and chocolate-covered confections, tiny pastries, bites of cake and all manner of sweets and savories - the kind of food meant to be fed between lovers - heaped around two flutes of champagne. The bubbles are frozen, effervescence paused, and he heaves out a sigh. Hugh's a bit hungry, but mostly exhausted and very, very glad to finally be where he's meant to be.

That exhaustion melts away as his eyes travel over the sunken tub and open shower past the table, the twinkling lights of the city below glittering through the transparent wall. He keeps turning, past an indulgent looking lounge area to a plush rug upon which is perched an enormous bed. In the middle of it, piled high with pillows and a fluffy white duvet, Paul’s curled on his side and sleeping soundly. 

Hugh sets down his duffel and travel case, strips off his uniform and boots, dropping the garments in a trail to the bed. He's naked by the time he reaches it, toes sinking into the thick rug before he climbs onto the mattress and kneels at Paul's side. Paul is wearing Hugh’s favorite midnight blue silk pajama shirt (only his shirt, as far as he can tell), legs tucked up towards his chest and snoring softly. His comm is on the pillow beside him, clearly fallen from his fingers, and Hugh wonders how long ago he fell asleep. The messages stopped coming in a couple of hours ago, past midnight local time, and he knows Paul's trip here was probably just as tiring as his own. He smells like citrus soap, hair messy and clinging to the pillow, and he's absolutely beautiful. Almost too beautiful to wake up, with his nose wrinkled in a slight frown and eyes darting behind closed lids.

_I wonder what he's dreaming of?_

There’s a stack of towels on the bedside table, a bottle of massage oil waiting alongside the standard ‘Fleet travel case that Hugh knows houses Paul's half of the items make their separation somewhat bearable on the basest physical level. Hugh swallows down the sense of regret and annoyance that he wasn’t here on time after Paul so carefully set the scene for a romantic reunion. Conventional romance isn't something Paul thinks he's good at, and Hugh always appreciates the effort he goes through, even though he's tried and failed to get Paul to understand that what he thinks are purely practical gestures make Hugh's heart sing (writing code for the synthesizer to automatically make Hugh caffeinated beverages when he's not home, rubbing Hugh's feet when he's been on them all day). He caresses Paul's cheek and debates waking him, but really, the food will keep just fine under the stasis field until morning and there's nothing stopping them from picking up as soon as they're both awake again. 

Carefully maneuvering the covers out from under Paul's knees, he snuggles up behind him and pulls the duvet up. Paul murmurs and shifts a little before falling still again, and Hugh presses a kiss just behind his ear. The texture of the silk feels like liquid against his skin, warmed by Paul's body heat as he traces a hand down his side and over a bare hip. Smiling to himself, Hugh fits his hand around the curve of Paul's ass, squeezing gently. Eyes closed, he uses a single finger to trace where Paul's thighs are pressed together, chasing over the invisible hairs. He's intending to give the exposed balls a quick caress hello before going to sleep, but he's not expecting his knuckles to nudge something solid when he pulls back. 

_What?_

He frowns, carefully shifting Paul's thigh and walking his fingers over the tender skin until he can feel the base of the plug nestled between his cheeks. Hugh's dick, previously as uninterested as it could ever be with Paul nearby, gladly takes the excuse and twitches awake. 

_Oh sweetheart._

The invitation is clear: when he drifted off, Paul was either expecting Hugh to wake him to play or take him while he's sleeping. 

Hugh’s had standing permission for years to do whatever he desires to Paul’s unconscious body, but it’s not something he often takes advantage of outside of fondling and blowjobs. Remembering the trust in Paul’s eyes when he made the offer fills his heart, and it fills other parts of his body as well. Part of him (generally, his dick) suggests he should just pull it out, lube himself up, and fuck Paul awake. Lust briefly wars with the slight disappointment that he's missed the chance finger him open, to lick and suck his hole until he coaxes it to relax and Paul moans as his tongue finally slips inside. There’s nothing like the mewls and whimpers he gets when he does so, but really, he has a whole week and there's sure to be plenty of opportunities.

Sleep becomes a very distant thought indeed. 

"Sweetheart?"

Paul doesn't even stir, so Hugh sits up again and peels the covers back. He leans down to kiss his hip, breathing in his scent, then eases Paul's thigh down until he has access. 

_Oh yes._

Soft or hard, Paul has such a _pretty_ cock, pink and pleasing to the eye _(“To your eyes. Not that I’m showing my dick to anyone else for their opinion.”)._ Not ridiculously large, just the right size to drive Hugh nearly mad with pleasure when they’re fucking. 

_Mine._

Hugh's mouth waters as he traces the underside of the shaft with the tip of his tongue, gently eases back the foreskin and finally closes his lips around the head. He hums in delight as Paul’s cock stirs in his mouth, twitching at the wet heat. So good. He can feel it swelling against his tongue, pulls back to tease at the slit and under the crown before going down again. As he does so, his eyes flick up for any sign of waking, but Paul's still sound asleep. After a couple of minutes, he pauses, cheek resting on Paul's thigh and sucking the tip idly as he thinks. While it's horribly tempting to keep going, jerk himself off while he swallows Paul down, it's been seven months since the last time they were together and he knows what he wants.

He lets Paul's cock fall from his mouth with a last kiss, then shifts up onto his elbow. Slowly, he eases the plug out, followed by a trickle of body-warmed lube. It’s not overly large, but certainly big enough that he should be able to slide in with minimal resistance. Not one he recognizes and they’ve played with before either, and a wicked grin stretches his lips as he sits up to place it on the nightstand. Special for this trip, then. He can just see Paul opening himself up, maybe looking at some of the many private photos they've exchanged, then finally pushing it into place. 

Lust mingles with deep, deep love as he moves back onto his side, spooned up behind Paul. Hugh nudges his top leg forward, exposing Paul's ass properly, wets his fingers with the excess slick and quickly gives his own cock a couple of pulls before very slowly pressing inside. He has to stop barely an inch in, squeezing himself hard to push back the urge to come. Without Paul awake to clench and tense, the smooth glide is odd but not unpleasantly so. Once he’s buried to the hilt, he gathers Paul even closer, slipping an arm beneath his neck to cradle his head against Hugh’s shoulder, the other arm wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t start moving right away, just savors the feeling of being held by his love in the most intimate of ways. 

"Paul?"

Still no response, so he unbuttons the pajama shirt to expose more skin and lets his hand roam. When he's ready to move, instead of thrusting, Hugh rocks his hips, focusing on the fireworks of pleasure exploding in his chest. His fingers re-map the delicate skin over Paul's prominent collarbone, the light dusting of hair trailing down his chest, the curve of his belly where his stomach has lost some of its youthful flatness. Hugh strokes the slight roundness, the thickening of his waist arousing for the thought of them growing older together. With his other hand, he ghosts over Paul’s nipples and the resulting shiver travels through Paul’s body, squeezing his cock deliciously. He flicks first one and then the other nub, plucking and rubbing them into hard points. Paul's nipples are _so_ sensitive, and Hugh loves playing with them and the reactions he gets. There should be a pair of clamps in the case on the nightstand, but getting them would require moving. Paul always looks even more beautiful when he’s being tormented with pleasure, swollen nipples clamped and teased, but he doesn’t want to subject him to even the slightest pinch of discomfort right now. 

Hugh fondles his balls, rolling them in his palm, fingers carding through the crisp blond curls at his groin. He abandons it just long enough to tug the midnight blue silk down, baring creamy skin with a scattering of freckles for him to kiss Paul’s shoulder, nuzzling at the side of his neck and breathes in the smell of night-sweat and musk. Then he grips the bobbing erection and starts to stroke, thumb rubbing circles over the leaking tip. He pulls out just an inch or two, pressing back in almost immediately. Paul sighs and shifts, breathing faster. Smiling, Hugh slides a little further down the bed, angling his hips to find the spot he’s searching for. He knows he’s found it when Paul’s muscles seize and he comes awake with a gasping cry, back arching.

”Shhh,” Hugh murmurs, pushing up on his elbow to watch thick blond lashes flutter, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

He slows the movements of his hips, sinks in as deep as possible as Paul blinks and turns his head up to give Hugh a brilliant, sleepy smile. 

”You’re here.”

His eyes are so blue, candlelight reflecting the shifting play of storm and sea.

”Mmhmm.”

He waits for Paul to twist around until they can share a proper kiss. His love must have fallen asleep not long before he arrived, because there’s still a hint of minty toothpaste on his lips and Paul isn’t dashing off to brush his teeth. They exchange kiss after kiss as a strong hand lands on his hip, pressing their bodies even closer together. Paul squirms, impatient as ever, working the swollen head of Hugh’s cock against his sweet spot.

”Feels so good,” he moans when their mouths separate, “fuck. Missed your cock, Hugh.”

”Just my cock?”

He punctuates the question with a sharp thrust, moaning as Paul clenches around him and curses.

”Well,” Paul pants once the curses die down, “your hands and your mouth too.”

Hugh pinches a nipple in ‘punishment’, reveling in the teasing even in the midst of their primal joining. The silk is catching on his chest hair as they move, a teasing tickle that makes his own nipples hard and wanting.

“Imagine my surprise and delight at finding such a pretty package all wrapped up and ready for me.”

”Mmm, you liked that?”

”Do you?”

Blue eyes that are mostly pupil still manage to give him a _look_.

“How many times have I told you I wanted to wake up with you fucking me? Can’t believe I never thought of this before.”

”Usually we’re falling asleep together. I'd- mmphhh...notice if you were plugging your ass so it- ahh - wouldn't be a surprise.”

He rolls them over until Paul’s stomach is flat to the bed, keeping his weight off Paul’s back to give him a moment to rearrange his erection underneath himself. 

“Good?”

”H- hang on...”

Paul wrestles a pillow under his hips, then spreads his legs wide.

”Mmm. Go ahead.”

Hugh rubs his lower back, fingers slipping in the sheen of sweat. Then he sits back all the way on his heels, spreads Paul’s cheeks apart and admires the way his rim is stretched tight around Hugh’s cock.

”What do you want, sweetheart?”

”...fuck. You. Hard.”

”You sure?”

”Mmhmm.”

”I-“

”Doctor Culber,” Paul’s voice takes on a sharp edge that he only ever uses in bed, and it sends a shiver of excitement down Hugh’s spine, “I'm suffering a severe lack of being fucked by my partner. Pound me into the mattress.”

_You can't say no to that._

“Better hang on then.”

He watches Paul’s fingers fisting around handfuls of sheets as he spreads his own knees wider for balance, hands gripping Paul’s hips firmly. Then he begins to move, thrusting faster and deeper once he sees Paul isn’t doing anything but moaning and pushing back to meet him. The air fills with the sound of their harsh breathing, skin slapping together, and Paul’s inability to be anything resembling quiet in bed.

”...so- fucking. Good, ohhh...mmm, mMM! There, Hugh, _please_...”

“Like that?”

”Harder. Fuck me harder. Ne- need...ahh, oh fuck, just like that. Don't stop, please-”

There's sweat beading on his upper lip and his knees are going to be raw from the friction of rubbing on the sheets, but he keeps up the pace as long as he can. It's probably not as long as either of them wants because it's been more than half a year and they're both tired. He shifts to reach under Paul for his own erection, but Paul’s hand is already there, jerking himself off rapidly. 

"Close?"

"Mmm...yeah. Yeah- just- ahh...right there, right THERE, yes yes yes-"

Hugh can’t hold off any more, comes with so much force that he thinks he might white out for a second as his balls clench and he spills deep in Paul’s ass. He grinds into him, writhing as wave after wave sets his nerves alight. Then he collapses forward, feels Paul tense beneath him as his own orgasm takes him, crying out in ecstasy and squeezing Hugh's oversensitive cock hard enough that his vision goes blurry.

Neither of them speak for a few minutes, panting and hearts pounding as their hips twitch together with aftershocks. Hugh can feel his cum starting to leak out as he softens inside of Paul, but he can’t bring himself to pull out just yet. 

"...Hugh?"

He manages a clumsy kiss to Paul's shoulderblade.

"Mmm."

"You're getting heavy."

Chuckling, Hugh drags up whatever energy he has left in reserve and rolls off to the side. Exhausted or not, he carefully checks Paul's ass to make sure he didn’t hurt him, especially after so long. Face first in a pillow, Paul aims an uncoordinated smack at his forearm as Hugh nudges at his reddened rim.

”Stop it. M’fine.”

“Regen?”

There's one in his bag by the door, and probably the hotel provides a standard light duty one in the bathroom. Either option feels about a light year away, but if Paul needs it he'll make himself move.

Somehow.

”Nah. Want to feel it when we wake up.”

Paul pulls his face out of the pillow and gives him a lazy smile. His hair is even messier than before, cheeks stained pink, and Hugh just loves him so damn much.

"Hi."

"Hello, sweetheart."

"How was the trip?"

"Awful."

They grin at each other.

"We should clean up," Paul wrinkles his nose, yawning, "but I don't think I can move."

"Gonna stick to the sheets if we don't."

Hugh's eyelids are drooping, even as his hands rub circles over Paul's arm. Neither of them is probably going to be awake for much longer.

"You're on the wrong side."

Heaving a sigh, Hugh climbs over Paul's unmoving form, poking his hip until he shifts with a groan and wriggles out of the shirt still tangled around his arms before rolling over. Hugh reaches for the towels on the nightstand, glad of Paul's forethought. Spreading a towel over the worst of the mess and pitching the dirty pillow off the side of the bed, Hugh cuddles up to Paul’s side as his partner wraps both arms around him. The air smells like cum and sweat, but any concern over that is rapidly fading along with consciousness. Nothing in the universe makes him feel safer than being in Paul's embrace, held close and loved.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

"Glad you're here."

"Goodnight, love."

"Night."

They sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2,800 words of smut, you say? Oh yes, this happened.


	4. Day One - 0800

Paul wakes warm and content, a deep lassitude weighing his limbs together with a heavy arm thrown over his chest. A smile stretches his lips before his eyes are even open, and he tugs free his foot from under Hugh’s ankle where it’s gone to sleep. As he does, a delicious ache brings his attention between his legs, and he remembers their passionate reunion.

Last night he’d fingered himself open and slipped the toy in, calculating Hugh’s arrival within the hour. Then he’d run through several scenarios of how to greet him, eventually ending up on the bed because walking was its own kind of torment. Of course, sitting wasn’t much better as he hadn’t been able to help rocking his hips against his heel where he knelt, fucking himself to the thought of just what Hugh would do to him once he found out. He’d intended to stay awake to greet his partner when he finally arrived, to bring a lover’s meal to bed and tease each other, to pull Hugh onto his lap while they exchanged bites of food. The pajama top would have offered tantalizing glimpses to Hugh’s searing glances, until they abandoned the food and started in devouring each other. Paul meant for his surprise to be revealed once he’d worked Hugh up and his gentle doctor let desire turn his touches firm and rough, the plug in his ass keeping his arousal at a simmer. 

Unfortunately, his calculations had been off - he hadn’t taken into account the need for Hugh’s shuttle to take a more circuitous route to avoid a supernova - and fatigue had started to set in. Once it became clear that sixteen hours of travel meant he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, he’d pouted at the empty other side of the bed before settling in for a nap. As he lost the battle to exhaustion, he’d hoped Hugh would discover the plug before morning. Coaxing him to ‘take advantage’ of his sleeping body is a rare treat in the limited time they have together, but it wouldn’t require further explanation and he knew Hugh wouldn’t be able to resist the invitation.

He’d awakened to blinding pleasure, hole no longer stretched by inanimate silicone but stuffed full of Hugh’s throbbing cock. It’s one of his favorite fantasies, letting Hugh do as he will, and borne out even better than he’d imagined. His generous lover had already played with him, too well-mannered to simply take, had made his nipples exquisitely sensitive and stroked him to full hardness. All that remained was to convince Hugh to take him roughly, to fulfill the lust burning under the surface of their skin. 

It hadn’t taken much convincing.

Now, he stretches luxuriously and makes a face at the hair on the back of his thighs glued to the towel beneath them. 

_Knew we should have cleaned up._

He glances down at the dried cum on his belly, snorting when he sees it smeared on Hugh’s forearm. 

_Oh well._

Covered in the rapidly heading towards itchy evidence of their loving or not, it’s a rarity for him to wake first and he doesn’t intend to waste it. He shifts to pull a second pillow under his head, shushing Hugh when he murmurs in discontent, and looks his fill. There’s a few more threads of silver in Hugh’s beard and hair than the last time they saw each other in person, his laugh lines still just as generous. He’s clearly been hitting the gym, the bulk of his chest and shoulders solid even when lax with sleep. Paul fondles the one pectoral muscle he can reach, thumb rubbing through the hair between them. Grinning, he tugs at a dark nipple, flicking it a few times. 

Hugh sighs as he does, nuzzling at Paul’s shoulder but otherwise still. Paul moves on and caresses every inch of warm skin that he can reach, comparing the touches to the memory of Hugh imprinted on his heart. It’s, as ever, an imperfect match, and he delights in collecting more ‘data’ with his fingertips. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of holding Hugh, of pressing so close together that nothing could come between them. 

He really ought to at least get up and retrieve a damp towel to wipe them down, but the bone-deep sense of rightness as they cuddle is too strong of an anchor. Hugh’s rhythmic breathing is lulling him back to sleep, and really, there’s no reason not to surrender. No one will disturb them until they request clean sheets or a meal, their own little bubble of the universe to fill with laughter and conversation and love. He kisses Hugh’s forehead, then closes his eyes again.

Maybe when he wakes up next, he can talk Hugh into letting Paul suck him off in the shower.


	5. Day One - 1000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains the morning-after aftermath of sex, which could be a little icky. Paul and Hugh aren't grossed out, but feel free to skip ahead.

Hugh’s still snoring when Paul’s eyes open again, but the need to use the facilities outweighs his desire to snuggle with Hugh for the next year. He carefully extracts himself, kissing a well-muscled shoulder and crawling to the side of the bed. The wooden floor is cool beneath his bare feet as he crosses to the only other separate room. Once he’s done, Paul pauses in front of the bathing area, considering his options.

Two steps down from the main part of the suite, the polished marble of the sunken tub contrasts with the river-rock floor under the shower head - water only, no sonics here - gently sloping to drain where the floor meets the transparisteel wall. Normally he’d be far more concerned with someone spying him, but the only thing on the other side of the wall is a large deck with a couple of lounge chairs. There's no partition between the shower and tub (or anywhere, really), although he doesn't think he and Hugh would bother with one in any case. The tub is large enough to comfortably fit them both, contoured to resemble a natural pool with strategically placed inlets that give him definite ideas about what sort of mischief they could accomplish while bathing. 

_Does doing things that requires bathing afterwards count if we're in the tub already?_

His thighs chafe uncomfortably as he walks over to peer out over the city a few hundred meters below, hair at his groin tugging against him with dried stickiness, and he’s both eager to rinse off the remains of their passion and reluctant to wash away Hugh’s primal marking of his body.

 _It’s not like he isn’t here to do it again,_ he reminds himself with a wry smile, _properly, this time_.

Shaking his head at the scarcity mindset their long separations have programmed into him, Paul makes a decision and returns to the bed. He climbs on, settling on his knees beside Hugh and just admiring the beauty of him in silence once again, feeling his heart swell with love. Then he leans over to bury his nose in the crook of neck and shoulder for an indulgent inhale, because nothing in the universe smells as good as a slightly sweaty Hugh Culber. 

”Hugh?”

Paul smooths his palm over Hugh’s shoulder, rubbing at his bare back. He's distracted by the corded muscle, relaxed in slumber but still defined. Hugh must have worked out more than usual before this trip, although Paul's not sure if he's done it as more of a distraction or with a specific intent in mind, knowing how much his lover enjoys touching. Possibly both, and Paul's not going to complain either way.

He tries again to rouse him, slightly louder, and is rewarded with a quiet groan, Hugh’s legs shifting.

”Morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs before his eyes are even open, voice slurred with sleep falling away.

Paul huffs a quiet, delighted laugh.

”This is a good morning.”

Hugh stretches and Paul openly ogles him, appreciating the play of warm caramel skin over sculpted muscle. He rolls onto his back, morning-hard dick resting on his thigh, scratching at his stomach. Frowning, Hugh opens his eyes the rest of the way, looks down at himself, and makes a face.

”Yuck.”

Paul chuckles, shifting to sit on the edge of the towel as he can feel leftover slick beginning to dampen his inner thighs in this position. That's the one downside of their play, but it's far too enjoyable in the moment for them to bother with a barrier. 

_It does make for easier cleanup though._

"That's your fault."

Hugh flicks a bit of dried lube at Paul.

"How's it my fault? This," he points at himself with a yawn, "is all yours."

”You didn’t wake up with cum in your ass.”

”I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

He can't decide if the mock outrage is adorable or just hot.

_Why not both?_

”Oh, I’m not complaining. I do, however, want to rinse this off. And I’d much rather do it with you. _After_ you brush your teeth."

Yawning again, Hugh rolls his eyes with a long-suffering look and catches Paul's hand, nuzzling the inside of his wrist in concession to the fact that he's not getting any kisses until after he's freshened his mouth. Paul strokes the back of his fingers down his stubbly cheek, then slides off the bed and looks at him expectantly.

”Go on,” Hugh swats his ass (gently), aim a little off with sleepiness, “get started, I’ll be right there.”

He pads over to his bag, presumably to retrieve a toothbrush, and Paul steps onto the polished rocks below the shower head. There’s an unobtrusive control panel, and he opts for a rain shower, sighing as it begins to cascade over his skin. It's a bit like the time they were caught in a downpour while hiking the mountains back home, but a whole lot warmer. Smiling, Paul pushes his wet hair back where it’s plastered to his forehead, but otherwise remains still with one hand on the wall for balance and head thrown back under the spray.

The smile widens when he feels the water deflect off another body, hands slipping around his waist and lips brushing over his own.

"Mmm. Good morning."

"Didn't we say that already?" Hugh's laugh tickles his mouth, "silly."

Paul blinks water out of his eyes, dropping quick little kisses on Hugh's lips and cheeks.

"Do you like it?"

He waits for Hugh's gaze to follow the direction he's inclining his head, sweeping over the furnishings and dramatic view just beyond the shower. 

"It's perfect," he nuzzles at Paul's temple, "because you're here."

"Mmm."

They stand there, embracing tightly for a few minutes before Paul remembers the reason he wanted to shower in the first place. Other than seeing a naked, wet Hugh, which is really excuse enough in itself. He sets a hand on Hugh's chest, taking a half step back but still in the circle of his arms.

"Need to wash you off me."

Grinning, Hugh retrieves the body wash and squeezes out a palmful for them both. He smears his hands over Paul's chest, then sets about washing himself with brisk efficiency. The lather smells like balsam and sandalwood, and Paul is pleased that the hotel accommodated his rather specific requests. It's hardly a cheap stay, but worth it for the little details.

The mess on his stomach and thighs is quickly banished, skin pinkening with heat. He props one foot on the low ledge and is about to start the not-so-glamorous but practical part of the process when Hugh catches his wrist before it can travel between his legs. 

"What?"

Hugh reaches for a bottle in the alcove with the soap, and Paul snorts in amusement.

"I love you, but that's optimistic. Probably going to need a little more recovery time or a regen, unless that's for you?"

Instead of responding, Hugh kisses the tip of his nose and nudges him to lean forward with his hands on the wall for balance, spreading his ass open and carefully washing the tender skin. He circles Paul’s slightly sore hole, petting in shallow motions. After a moment, he turns Paul and guides him to lean against Hugh’s body, anchoring him with an arm around his waist while his other hand reaches for the lube. There's the click of a lid before the hand returns, tracing the cleft of his ass. Paul hisses when he wiggles a fingertip past his rim, and Hugh hums an apology, pausing and gentling his movements even further. Then he continues with the gentle probing, slipping deeper and twisting. He’s still a little loose from a few hours ago, but it also means a lingering discomfort that Hugh eases with slippery fingers. Paul considers pointing out that putting more lube up his ass isn’t the definition of clean, but it’s water-based and won’t take more than a few extra seconds to rinse. 

It’s devastatingly intimate, for all that he’s essentially being finger-fucked, and a lazy coil of arousal spirals down into his balls even as he hooks a leg around Hugh's hips and lets him take more of his weight. Eventually, Hugh adds a second finger, keeping his movements slow and steady. His thumb continues massaging Paul’s rim as he does, coaxing him open further.

”We should have used the tub.”

”Hmmm?”

“For this.”

”Mmm. How’s that?”

”Well,” Hugh sounds like he’s smiling, “there’s some lovely inflows at just the right height.”

”You’re not seriously suggesting I rinse your cum out of my ass with that?”

”No, but if we turned them on low and-“ Hugh’s fingers move apart, stretching, “could see how you like having your ass massaged.”

The image of them in the tub grows in his mind unbidden, and he shivers in delight.

"Maybe later."

Hugh's smiling again, returning to his task until they're both satisfied with the results. Then he deliberately nudges his thigh against Paul's half-hard erection, courtesy of Hugh's suggestion and talented fingers. Paul licks his collarbone before dropping to his knees on the river-rocks, bringing him face to face with evidence of Hugh's own desire.

It's slower than last night's hungry need, Paul taking his time licking up the underside of the shaft and suckling at the head, nibbling at the delicate skin below. His hand takes up a lazy rhythm, stroking up and down. The sweet stickiness smeared over his lips evokes both a surge of lust and one of deep tenderness as he laps at the weeping slit, savoring the gasps and sighs of pleasure he can just hear over the sound of water hitting stone. A hand tangles itself in Paul's slippery hair, Hugh adjusting his grip to guide him up and down. Not that he needs it, but it's part of it all and he loves the feeling of knowing he's giving his lover exactly what he wants. 

He looks up through the spray at Hugh and pauses mid-suck to stare. Head and shoulders resting on the wall, Hugh's arched in a way that flexes his stomach and pectoral muscles, water running in rivulets in the grooves that Paul would love to capture with his tongue were it not otherwise occupied. His lips are parted, a hint of a smile on them as he uses his other hand to cup Paul's straining jaw and stroke behind his ear. All in all, it's an intoxicating sight and his hips thrust automatically, seeking friction, cock bobbing and nudging Hugh's shin. Hugh shifts, moving his right leg until Paul can rub against it easily, ankle clasped between his thighs and hands clutching at Hugh's ass.

They've been apart too long, and it doesn't take much more than a hum or two before Hugh is spilling down Paul's throat, moaning as Paul massages his balls and swallows greedily. (It isn't precisely the tastiest of things in general and he'd flatly refused to do so with the majority of his (few) former lovers, but Hugh somehow manages to make his not terribly unpleasant. For which Paul is rather grateful, given the amount of it that usually ends up in various places when they're so engaged.) His own arousal is forgotten as the fingers tighten in his hair and he revels in Hugh's ecstatic cry. He gives his softening cock a few more licks before letting it slide out of his mouth, kissing the tip once and then nosing into the crease where hip meets thigh. The shower's washed away the musk, but he can still taste Hugh's clean skin and delights in working a love bite just below the sharp cut of his left oblique.

"Sweetheart."

He hums in acknowledgement, still busily laving the area with his tongue.

"You didn't come?"

Paul pulls off with a wet smack, gazing down at his lap in mock-astonishment.

"When did that get there?"

Hugh snorts, working his ankle free from Paul's clenched thighs and rubbing the arch of his instep over the bobbing shaft in a teasing caress. 

"Should I take care of that for you?"

"If you don't mind," Paul shrugs, smile belying the casual delivery.

Hugh slides down the shower wall until he's sitting on the floor, pulling Paul between his spread knees until his head is leaning back on Hugh's shoulder and he can feel the rise and fall of his chest behind his back. Even better, Hugh wraps his arms around Paul's shoulders and squeezes, kissing his temple before one hand slides lower. The wandering hand pauses to tweak a nipple, then continues straight down until he's gripping Paul's cock with just the right amount of firmness. Paul lets his own hands rest on Hugh's knees, eyes half-closed as his partner works him towards an orgasm. It's not the explosive release of last night, but he doesn't have any complaints when he paints his own stomach and the evidence is quickly washed away.

Really, he could stay here all day - or at least until their skin gets too wrinkly - but his stomach chooses that moment to make itself known with a loud grumble. Laughing, Hugh tugs them both to their feet, shutting off the shower and passing over an indulgently fluffy towel.

"I'll order breakfast?"

"Sounds good."

There's a perfectly serviceable synthesizer, but one of the luxuries of this place is also the ability to request actual food prepared in a kitchen. As Hugh calls up the menu, Paul drops onto one of the chairs and almost immediately shoots up again with a surprised yelp.

”Babe?”

He rubs his ass and smiles wryly.

”Cold. I know you said you wanted me naked all the time, but I don’t think I’m going to be any use if I freeze my balls off.”

Tapping the display a few times, Hugh sends their order off and heads towards Paul's still mostly unpacked travel case propped at the foot of the bed. He returns with a pair of loose boxers meant for lounging, helping Paul step into them and pulling them up. He fondles his crotch briefly, intention clearly not to cause arousal but an affectionate acknowledgement. Hugh devotes far more time to caressing Paul’s hipbones and belly, quiet noises of enjoyment as he squeezes the soft flesh, ending with a kiss below his navel. 

"I wasn't serious about that, love," he chuckles when his mouth is free again.

Paul puts on his best vaguely disappointed pout, but relents when Hugh sits and pulls him onto his towel-covered lap instead. He snuggles closer, enjoying the chance to have Hugh under his hands with no sense of impending separation. That's how room service finds them ten minutes later, the young woman who drops off their tray not batting an eyelash as she checks the stasis settings on last night's meal and wishes them a good stay. 

_A very good stay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates! Channeling my focus on the longer chaptered stories isn't as easy as writing We Go Together snippets at the moment, but I will be getting back to all of these soon.
> 
> Chapter goal: Sweet, tender, and filthy.


	6. Day One

They eat brunch like that, Paul perched on Hugh’s lap as he uncovers the plates and pours coffee. Hugh wraps his right arm securely around Paul’s waist, accepting a steaming mug and downing half of it in a few seconds. The dark roast is smooth on his tongue, rich and silky. His hum of enjoyment is followed with a chuckle, and he looks up to find his very amused lover making eyes at him over his own mug. 

“Should I leave you two alone?”

“Nah. See, there’s this really hot guy I’m supposed to be having breakfast with, and it wouldn’t be fair.”

”Mmm. Do I know this lucky guy?”

”I’d say you’re pretty well acquainted. Blond, blue eyes, about my height. Really smart and sexy, even if I occasionally want to strangle him.”

”I see,” Paul’s eyes are shining with playful mirth, “I suppose the coffee doesn’t stand a chance?”

Hugh sets the mug down and hugs him close.

”Nope. Nothing else does.”

He’s about to suggest they actually eat when Paul’s stomach makes its opinion known even louder than before. Hugh frees Paul’s arms with one last squeeze, enjoying his expression while he surveys the contents of the tray.

“Did you order one of everything? I mean, pain au chocolat and crepes _and_ waffles?” 

Paul’s tone is teasing, and it wreathes Hugh in warmth.

”No,” he replies with a straight face, “there were at least five types of croissants on the menu.”

He’s met with another laugh and the aforementioned croissant lifted to his lips. When Paul doesn’t seem to be interested in relinquishing it wholly, Hugh smiles and takes a bite as it’s offered. The pastry is flaky and buttery, chocolate snapping between his teeth, and he watches as Paul sets it down before meticulously buttering every square and starting to cut into the waffle.

Paul busies himself sharing forkfuls of syrup-drenched waffle in between sticky kisses and pauses for yet more coffee. His lover seems intent on Hugh not feeding himself, which he accepts with amusement when his hand is swatted when he reaches for anything besides his mug. 

“Are you planning to do this at every meal?”

Hugh’s not complaining when it frees both hands to caress, but he is curious. For his part, Paul shovels an enormous bite of mushroom omelette into his mouth, makes a vaguely indecent noise while chewing that says he’s pleased, and shrugs cheerfully. 

”Maybe,” he answers once he’s swallowed, “but I’d rather do the extra work.”

”Oh?”

Hugh scratches the back of Paul’s neck gently, moving up to run his fingers through damp hair.

”Mmhmm. So you can keep doing...ahh...that.”

“Give me some ham next, and I think that can be arranged.”

It takes almost an hour to finish, because they keep getting distracted and forgetting that they’re supposed to be eating. Hugh supposes that kissing after every few bites isn’t strictly necessary, but it’s obviously much more practical to use his own lips to clean stray jam off Paul’s mouth than to waste time reaching for a napkin. And when a dribble of peach juice escapes down freckled skin, it only makes sense for him to chase it with his tongue. For the sake of completeness, Hugh then absolutely has to lick both nipples to be sure he isn’t missing any.

Just in case.

Paul pays him back by squirming most enticingly on his lap, and the remainder of the food is abandoned in favor of making out instead. He turns to straddle Hugh on the bench, at just the right height for Hugh to nibble along his collarbone before claiming more kisses. His mouth is soft and welcoming, and he tastes like the strawberries they’ve both eaten when Hugh’s tongue slips inside to reacquaint itself with familiar territory. When they surface for air, he tugs Paul’s lower lip gently with his teeth, drinking in the resulting sigh. 

Their hips are rocking together, dicks half hard with no demand to move faster. The lazy, satisfied look in Paul’s eyes probably mirrors Hugh’s own expression, and he’s not in any rush to chase that off. There’s enough friction with the towel when he thrusts up against Paul’s ass that Hugh thinks he could probably maintain this semi-aroused state for quite a while, reveling in the nearness. Paul’s so warm, wriggling and hands roaming, lips swollen with kisses. They don’t have anywhere to be, so there’s no reason not to make out until they’re hungry again. 

_For food, or other things._


End file.
